


Imperial Pissing Contests

by draculard



Category: Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Crack, Ficlet, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Set before Heir to the Empire, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:35:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29282334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: There are plenty of good things about the Chimaera's new Grand Admiral.The fact that he always chooses the urinal right next to Pellaeon's is not one of them.
Relationships: Gilad Pellaeon/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo
Comments: 5
Kudos: 27





	Imperial Pissing Contests

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on tumblr, I'm draculard there too

The aft-bridge fresher was blessedly empty, giving Pellaeon the privacy he needed to _absolutely lose his mind_ over his new CO. He dropped his military posture as soon as he stepped inside, allowing himself to release all the grumbles he’d pent up during the past five hours on the bridge with Grand Admiral Thrawn. The man was too intense to work with; he’d nearly given Pellaeon two separate heart attacks with his suicidal maneuvers this shift, and every time, he always brushed it off the same way: a calm, entirely rational explanation that seemed perfectly crafted to make Pellaeon feel like a galaxy-class dunce; a faint, mysterious smile; sometimes a brief, warm touch to Pellaeon's shoulder or arm, disarming him, making him so flustered that he dropped his animosity at once.

It didn’t help that some part of Pellaeon was absolutely charmed by it, he thought with a shake of the head. Though the Grand Admiral had only been on the Chimaera for a little over a month, Pellaeon had been awestruck from the very start — a combination of Thrawn’s rank, striking appearance, and leadership style, he supposed. Not to mention these damn tactical miracles he kept pulling out of his hat. 

With a sigh, Pellaeon stationed himself at the far end of the urinal bank and unzipped his trousers. Just a few minutes ago, he’d blurted out a question before he could stop himself, and he’d been certain Thrawn would have his head over it. But instead, he’d gotten the ghost of an approving smile, and a brief inclination of the head, and a crisp, “Very good, Captain,” that he could still hear ringing in his ears. It was making his face heat up just thinking about it.

But it was fine. He had to hide his blushes on the bridge, but here, where there was no one else to see—

Of course, he’d no sooner given himself permission to blush than the fresher door hissed open and Grand Admiral Thrawn himself walked inside.

“Ah, Captain,” he said neutrally. Pellaeon jumped a little, his grip tightening on himself in an attempt to keep his stream steady. Who’d taught Thrawn his bathroom etiquette? Didn’t he know you weren’t supposed to greet people in the fresher? His shoulders stiffened as Thrawn approached the urinal bank, and then tensed up even further when Thrawn didn’t stop, bypassing one urinal after the next until he came to a stop.

At the urinal _right next to Pellaeon’s._

“Tell me,” said Thrawn conversationally, unzipping his white trousers. “What did you think of the crew’s response time today?”

Pellaeon watched with a dry mouth as Thrawn pushed open the front of his black undershorts and pulled out his cock, long and thick and dark blue. 

“Ah…” said Pellaeon. His stream faltered; he was thinking too hard to piss straight. “Ah, they could have been faster, sir, certainly but they’re—“

Thrawn used one hand to fold his tunic back and the other to aim himself, one thumb hooked over the base of his cock while his fingers curled around and rested against his underwear, where his balls must have been. 

“—still rather inexperienced,” Pellaeon finished, voice weak. Thrawn glanced sideways, a cool, detached expression on his face, but he wasn’t meeting Pellaeon’s eyes — he was looking almost critically at Pellaeon’s cock as he dribbled out the last bit of piss left inside him. 

Before Pellaeon had time to get offended at that look, Thrawn turned away and focused on himself again, a heavy stream of urine pattering against the urinal’s porcelain walls. Cheeks flushed, Pellaeon tried not to stare. He shook himself off, tucked himself away, tried to act like this was totally normal.

“They will need more drills, then,” Thrawn murmured absently, sounding distracted. Pellaeon paused in the middle of zipping his trousers and sneaked another quick look at Thrawn’s cock. 

He looked _ridiculously_ good, Pellaeon thought. No man should look attractive while _pissing_ , but Thrawn somehow did. With his tunic folded out of the way, his undershirt was riding up, exposing the hard flat planes of his stomach. His undershorts were low on his hips so Pellaeon could see a trail of blue-black hair leading down to the waistband, Thrawn's thick cock filling his hand so perfectly, his posture even now telegraphing the grace and athleticism of a seasoned warrior. Even the expression on his face seemed regally composed.

Thrawn’s stream trickled to nothing abruptly, leaving Pellaeon with an unexpected sense of regret. He watched as Thrawn shook himself off economically and tucked his cock away. Even the brisk way he zipped his trousers seemed somehow admirable. 

Perhaps Pellaeon was suffering from a hint of hero-worship, he thought with chagrin as Thrawn glanced up and coolly met his eyes. Surely there was nothing _admirable_ about a man zipping his pants up after pissing ... but here he was. Admiring. His heart thudded; he watched Thrawn’s tongue dart out to lick his lips; he felt his heart rate increase with hopeful anticipation. No one chose the urinal right next to somebody else without a reason. Thrawn hadn’t _just_ been using the fresher; he’d been _targeting_ Pellaeon, putting on a show.

He watched Thrawn’s lips curve up in a faint smile.

“It’s impolite to stare, Captain,” he said.

...and he left, leaving Pellaeon alone with his mortification and outrage that after all that, _he_ was the one getting lectured on bathroom etiquette.

The blue bastard didn’t even wash his hands.


End file.
